Stolen Secrets
by CJS-Savvy
Summary: Chinese terrorists are out to destory the Hoover Dam in exchange for Project Backstep details. But will they destory Parker in the process?
1. Dah Sveezhdahnyah

****

Dah Sveezhdahnyah

Putting the binoculars down, he ran a gloved hand through his short dark hair and sighed. _Time to accomplish what I set out to do_ he thought, looking down at the tree branch he was perched on. Silently, he shimmied down the thick trunk of the old tree he had been sitting in all day. The dark hared man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small glass jar and a white cloth. He leaned up against the tree trunk and unscrewed the top from the jar. He poured the contents onto the cloth and threw the empty jar in the dirt. With a quick glance to the left and then the right, he started traversing the parking lot towards a gold Dodge Intrepid. The red headed owner of the car was about as far from it as he was, but if everything went according to plan, he'd get to it before she did. He came up on the right side of the gold car and hunkered down next to the back wheel. His hand tightened briefly on the cloth as he crept behind the trunk. His ears honed in on the sound of her shoes on the pavement, kicking gravel every so often. Peeking around, he watched her dig in her bag for her keys.

"Should have had your keys out already," he whispered to the taillight. 

"Praklinat," he heard her swear under her breath. He shook his head and stood up, stepping around the car.

"Ah, the one and only, Dr. Olga Vukavitch. Privyetstvye!" he said, watching the expression on her face go from shock to confusion. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting the greeting in her native Russian. Especially from a Chinese man.

"Look, if you want the car, you can have it," she said nervously, her accent adding to her beauty.

"I'm not after any material possessions. I'm more interested in the information you possess."

She didn't say anything for a moment, deciding on a course of action. Finally, she said, "I don't know what you're taking about."

"Oh, come now. Of course you do. Or do I have to remind you? Operation Backstep. Your 'colleague' Frank B. Parker," he said, adding air quotes on the word 'colleague.' Olga's face blanched and she turned around to run back to the building. The man's left arm grabbed her waist while his right brought the white cloth up to her face, covering her nose and mouth. Olga resisted but she couldn't hold her breath forever. 

__

You're about to be let in on the most highly 

classified data America holds...

We have a device that can allow us to send one

human being back in time… 

Seven Days


	2. Injunction

A/N: Yay for Russian! Okay, "Prada" means like true, indeed?, certainly- that kind of thing. "Dah Sveezhdahnyah" means good-bye.

****

Chapter 2 

Bradley Talmadge looked at his friends' faces. Nathan Ramsey, Craig Donovan, John Ballard. Their expressions were as they should be in this situation: serious and expecting the worst. Probably not this, though. Bradley looked over to Frank Parker, perhaps a second too long. 

Parker looked around, then back at Bradley and said, "Oh, please don't tell me they dropped the football again." He paused a second, then added, "Hey, where's Olga?"

Bradley looked at Parker, then at the rest of his friends. "I'm going to show you all a tape I received this morning from an anonymous source." He turned around and pushed play on the VCR behind him. A Chinese man appeared on the screen. 

_"Is this thing on?" the dark hared man asked someone off screen._

"Yeah, I think so, Jay. Lemme check," said the man off screen. The camera shook a little. "Yeah, it's on," the second guy added, sounding a little annoyed.

"Good. Greetings, Backstep Team! Hopefully you've noticed that your Commie comrade is not present at your little get together. If you haven't noticed, well, then I'm wasting my time, because then she's-."

"Get to the point, Jay!" said the camera guy, cutting Jay off.

"Oh, right. As I was saying, Olga's here with us." He looked to his left, at something off screen and asked, "Prada?"

"Yes, I am," she agreed from off screen. She didn't sound like she was in any trouble, just fed up.

"Not that we've established that, I'm going to give up my fifteen minutes of fame so your resident Soviet can have a turn." He smiled and stood there a moment. He then scowled and said, "Put the camera on her, you idiot!" The camera turned, showing a clear view of water and giant cement columns before stopping on Olga.

"Bradley, we're on top of the Hoover Dam. They want Backstep secrets in exchange for my life. You have…" she looked down at something, then back at the camera, "…ten hours." The camera shook violently and Jay's face appeared mere inches from the screen.

"Make sure you guys get a good look at this!" he said, spraying spit on the camera lens before pointing it at Olga again. This time though, it was a wider shot, showing just how serious the situation was. Olga was standing next to the back of a small dump truck, her left wrist chained to the bumper with handcuffs. In the back of the truck were stacks of brownish yellow clay bricks. 

"Tell 'em what they've won, Ms. Vukavitch," said the second man from off screen.

"Four-hundred pounds of C4 explosives," she said dolefully. Jay walked into the picture and stood as close to Olga as possible.

Leaning on her shoulder, looking her in the eyes, he said, "Very good, my pretty little Bolshevist." He turned to the camera and added, "By the time you get our little home movie, you should have four hours. You'd better get cracking! Dah Sveezhdahnyah!" Jay waved at the camera, then grabbed Olga's right hand and waved it at the camera. 

A few seconds went by and then Jay said, his patience running thin, "Jim, you can turn the camera off, now."

Parker sat for a moment, looking at Olga and Jay's images still on the television screen. Taking a deep breath, he squelched irrational fears and asked the simple question:

"So when do we go?"


	3. Molotov Cocktail

****

CHAPTER 3 

"We don't, Frank. The panel doesn't think this is worth a backstep," Bradley said, sadly. He glanced around the room again, his sweeping gaze greeted with a look of shock from Donovan to understanding from Ballard. Ramsey seemed indifferent; he never trusted Olga completely and held her background against her.

"If those guys blow up the dam, the whole southwestern United States will be in the dark, and the Colorado river will be a hell of a lot wider than it used to be," Parker argued, grabbing at anything that might get a backstep approved.

"I know. That's why the NSA feels it necessary to deal with this immediately and hopefully avoid the need for a backstep.

Parker looked to Bradley, pleading with his eyes. "Oh, come on, Bradley!"

"I'm sorry, Frank. We're sending a Griffin team out there now, but I'm afraid that's all we can do."

Parker slammed his fist on the table, stood up, and stormed from the room. Donovan looked to Bradley, both men knowing what Parker was going to do, but neither one was going to stop him.

"Thank God no one lives in Nevada," Parker muttered as he pushed the pedal to the metal, quickly red-lining the tachometer. Parker blinked a few times then rubbed his left eye with his fist. 

"Must have sand in my eye," he mumbled, swiping at the rogue tear that had escaped. How was this different from any other time this job had put Olga's life in jeopardy? 

"Well, if this gets screwed up, I can't fix it, that's how," Parker murmured angrily. He looked to his left at the desert whirring by, a blur of red and occasional green. _Look, the reason I am the way I am with you… I haven't known a lot of women like you, who've got it going on upstairs, who look as good as you, and can give it back to me as good as I give it…_ It felt like he'd told her that only yesterday. He'd said it in one of the other time lines, on that perpetual day. Of course, he remembered it, but she didn't. Parker vowed to tell her as soon as this was all over. Dammit, he'd get her to write it down if that's what he had to do to keep it from being erased by a backstep. 

Parker remember the rest of that never-ending day… _Well, I could say I'm a big romantic, but that would be manipulative based on what I know, and what's already gone on. Or I could agree with you and try to impress you with my honesty, but that would also be manipulative based on what I know. So seeing how I'm damned-if-I-do, and damned-if-I-don't, and mostly just damned happy you're alive, I decided this one time to keep my mouth shut._ Maybe this was a better course of action…Parker clenched the steering wheel tighter as he barreled down the deserted Nevada highway towards Lake Mead.

Olga sighed and adjusted her position on the ground in the shadow from the truck. Jay had picked up a rifle from the front seat of the truck cab and was now patrolling the road deck of the dam like a prison guard. Jim was sitting next to Olga in the shade. He was talking on and on about whatever came to mind, none of it connected to whatever was said prior. Jay stopped pacing as he spotted something glistening in the sun down at the Nevada side of the road deck. 

"Jim, get the cell phone from the cab, will ya?" he asked. Jim jumped up, whacked his head on the truck, then stumbled over to the truck and retrieved the cell phone. 

Bringing it over to Jay, he asked, "What's up?"

Jay nodded towards in the direction of the object he'd seen before.

"Ooooh…."

Jay waved the phone around in the air, trying to find an area where he could make the call. He punched in a number and waited. Bradley Talmadge picked up on the other end.

"Dr. Talmadge, I see you got our home video. I forgot to mention one thing. When I said we wanted Backstep secrets, I was hoping you'd either bring them yourself, or send Dr. Ballard. Not a griffin team. Now, if they come any closer, I will… well, you know." He hung up before Bradley could get a word out.

"Jim, etgay hetay riggertay," he said, enunciating each word slowly. Jim looked blankly at him. "GET THE TRIGGER!" he yelled, sending Jim running for the truck.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Olga asked, no longer bored. In fact, she was starting to get worried. Before, these two had seemed nothing more than bumbling idiots. Now, it seemed they meant business. Olga knew that no one would deliver the information the terrorists were demanding but she at least figured that a rescue attempt would be made. She was prepared for what might happen, though. It was part of the job. Bradley had an 'L' pill for situations like this. She looked around, not seeing anything.

"Well, it seems we have company," Jay said, walking over and kneeling next to her. "Do you see down there, that thing that randomly shines in the rocks?" he added, point to where he had pointed before. "That, my Commie Comrade, is the sun reflecting off of a gun. Or perhaps a belt buckle. But either way, it's a Griffin team. And they're unwelcome at our little party." He stood up and took a few steps closer to the Nevada side of the dam.

Jim came up along side Jay, carrying a small silver box with a few buttons and a switch on it. He handed the trigger to Jay.

"They've moved closer," Jay said, watching the Griffin team and absently taking the trigger from Jim. "They're on the road deck," he added. 

Olga watched as Jay gave Jim the rifle and started running towards the Griffin team. All the color drained from her face as the Griffin team started shooting, filling Jay's body with lead. He stood for a moment, arms spread out, laughing and slightly gurgling. He brought his hands together and deftly flipped the switch on the trigger, then crashed to the cement.

"Ya lyublyu tebya, Frank," Olga whispered.

Parker stood next to the smoking car, angrily beating the roof and kicking the front tire. 

"Damn American car," he grumbled, giving the tire one last kick. "They're not meant to be driven hard." He'd pushed the car too hard for too long and burned the engine out. He ran a hand through his short brown hair and sighed. 

"It's only a 20 minute run from here. Piece of cake. Except that it's 100 degrees...in the shade," he said to no one. _Hang in there, Olga_ he thought, looking at the long stretch of road in front of him. He turned around and kicked the tire again for good measure, then started running down Route 93. 

Parker hadn't gone more than 100 feet when the explosion tore through the silence like a freight train through a china shop. The vibration shook the ground, causing Parker to trip and stumble a little. The thunder that accompanied the vibration sent chills up Parker's spine. He knew what had happened. He was too late.

A/N: "Ya lyublyu tebya" means "I love you". Whee! Please review guys. I like to know that people besides Edele are reading my stuff. Reviews make me happy :D


	4. Author's Note

Hey guys.  Sorry I haven't written in a long time.  It looks as if these stories might not get finished.  I lost all my stories when changed computers.  And I've lost all my ideas.  For those of you who just follow me in general, regardless of what story it is, don't fear: I'm sure I'll have something new out soon.


End file.
